You steal me away
by companyundercovers
Summary: Lydia has always relied on science and logic. But maybe it's time for her to rely on something or someone else... Or, Lydia does a science experiment and the results aren't exactly what she was expecting.


The problem with being as smart as Lydia is - is that she doesn't forget anything.

She remembers precisely the moment when she realized her parents didn't love each other. March 20, 2004. They couldn't get their shit together and come to her recital, spending the whole night arguing. She can tell you the exact distance of each planet from the sun or even the first 20 decimals points of Pi. She knows that most times it's useful, on exams and generally outsmarting anyone that crosses her path.

But it has this annoying habit of keeping her up at night too. Like when she finally decides to close her eyes and fall asleep, her brain disagrees, drudging up memories she'd rather not think about it.

Recently, the feature presentation has been when she pushed Stiles and Scott out of harm's way at that completely horrible, probably in violation of every health code, motel.

Every night, like clockwork, it incapacitates her. Her lungs refuse to work and her whole body goes numb with fear. Maybe it's PTSD. She'd read about it once. And certainly she had been through enough trauma in the last two years to warrant it.

But why that memory?  
She searches for an explanation in her subconscious but nothing definitive surfaces.

Lydia Martin doesn't like mysteries, doesn't appreciate their ability to fuck up a person's life.

It could be because she's a mystery herself. Stiles' reminder that she's something lurks in her head, aggravating her to no end because all she got was one word: banshee. No explanation. No detailed manuscript to guide her. Just a seven-letter word with a bunch of inconclusive folklore.

Or it could be because she's a woman of science, using the dependability of physics and chemistry to get her through a world full of ingrates.

All she knows is that it's been two weeks of sleepless nights and she's sick of it. Yesterday, Diane asked if she had been having trouble sleeping as if her appearance suggested that conclusion. Which is just ridiculous because Lydia never has a hair out of place and Diane probably just wanted to get under her skin because Lydia may or may not have made out with her boyfriend once upon a time ago.

So basically, Lydia will get to the bottom of this, even if it's the last thing she does.

* * *

_Step I: Make Observations_

For example, Aiden needs to stop assuming that she wants anything more than heated sessions in a darkened classroom.

Lydia knows that this is way off topic from the actual premise of her experiment but she rationalizes that even informal observations can help the scientific process.

Granted, Aiden is a twin and she's always wanted one. But his constant pleas to go out on a real date are getting tiring. Not only because she has bigger things to worry about than a relationship but he did some really shitty things as a part of the alpha pack and Lydia's been there and done that with out of control supernatural boyfriends.

She allows him to place one last kiss on her neck before sliding off the desk he had her perched on and waving him goodbye. She exits the room, idly brushing some of her hair out of her eyes.

Time to get focused, she decides as she walks to lunch.

The memory that has haunted her for two weeks doesn't just involve her. Scott, Stiles, and Allison were all present too, meaning that through observation she can decide whether or not they have been suffering. Maybe if she had gotten a good night's sleep in the past two weeks, she would have thought of this sooner.

The first thing she hears as she approaches the lunch table is Stiles.

"It's been exactly two days since we saved our parents and Beacon Hills is still in one piece. I would say a job well done but the fact that our parents aren't dead probably already points to that fact." Stiles rambles from the edge of the table, using his hands to awkwardly convey his thoughts.

Lydia's arrival in the seat next to him stops him from going any further. Thank god.

"Yes, we know." Scott smiles, amused.

"So I guess we're once again normal, run of the mill teenagers. I mean unless any of you have had any trouble sleeping lately..." Not the subtlest approach but it's been two weeks of restless sleep and annoyance. Cut her some slack.

Stiles snorts in response. "Yeah, normal. Unless you take in account that Scott and Isaac turn into hairy wolves every full moon. Or," He gestures towards Allison, "you know any other teenagers that are a better shot than Katniss Everdeen."

"And what about you?"

"What about me, Stiles?" She huffs and jabs him in his side with her elbow.

"Um, nothing." But she can hear him mutter you're something in her head every time her brain quiets down enough to hear it so it doesn't matter that he isn't able to finish his thought. She knows what he's going to say, she always knows.

"Children. Behave." Allison chides. "Yeah, but no strange dreams on my end." Isaac and Scott nod their heads in agreement, utterly crushing all hope for Lydia's experiment. She tunes them out while they subtly compete for Allison's attention and sighs.

What now? She taps her nails on the table. Stiles provides her with the answer with his lips on her ear. "Meet me at my house after school."

She ignores the shiver it brings and blames it on the fact he surprised her. Looks at him, closely, taking in the moles that freckle his face and his almond eyes - notes their seriousness and nods in agreement.

Maybe her experiment isn't dead after all.

* * *

_Step II: Propose a Hypothesis_

Lydia is sitting on Stiles' kitchen counter wondering how in the hell she got here. In the metaphorical sense of course, because she drove herself here after school and chose to walk inside. She reminds herself that it's important to realize that she is in control of her actions. She had gotten so used to just waking up in random and scary and confusing places not being able to recall how she got there.

Metaphorically though, is an entirely different story. She used to be a normal girl with a normal albeit douche of a boyfriend, who was content with hiding her brilliance and didn't know what the hell a Stiles was.

Now she is in said Stiles house watching him flutter around the room because he is physically unable to sit still while she waits for him to provide an explanation for this meeting.

He takes a breath to settle himself and finally finds the fridge as a suitable place to lean against.

"First things first, we should probably talk about the elephant in the room." He pauses.

"Right, the elephant..."

"The kiss?" He sighs, frustrated.

"Mhm. Yeah, about that. See..." Lydia purses her lips and tries to come up with a suitable response but her mind goes blank. She doesn't like not knowing what to say especially when the kiss meant nothing. She thinks back to the sun shining on his face, illuminating all the moles scattered across it and this feeling of seeing everything for the first time and she puts a stop to this train of thought. It meant nothing.

"Don't worry about it. Seriously. I'd like to believe we're friends now," he looks at her for approval and she nods hurriedly in agreement, glad he finally broke the silence, "and friends help friends and you really helped me. I'm super grateful I happened to be next to one of the smartest people in the world when all of that went down. Scott would have probably lost his head and fainted."

Lydia chuckles more out of surprise than anything else. He is acting the opposite of his usual behavior. There's normally more waving of the hands and the bugging of the eyes and biting sarcasm. She hasn't seen him act so sincere since he was talking his best friend off the ledge and this reminder snaps Lydia back to her purpose.

She is here to find out how the hell to get a good night sleep. Not to analyze why Stiles' sincerity brings a warm glow to her cheeks.

She is a scientist and she is ready to work.

"Okay. So now that that's out of the way, what do you have to tell me?"

"Well, uh, you see, um - I have been having pretty dark dreams lately." Stiles bites his lip and looks down. "I think Scott and Allison have been too." Lydia is concerned about the darkness she sees behind his eyes but she can't help but feel happy for the first time in awhile. She knew she couldn't have been the only one. "Um, don't get too happy yet, Lyds. I pretty sure it's one of the side effects that Deaton mentioned would happen after our 16 hour ice baths."

She hops down off the counter, walks up to Stiles and punches him right in the shoulder. Hard. "Thanks for nothing, Stilinski." She snarks and storms off towards the front door. God, how could she have been so stupid! Scott, Allison, and Stiles all have this freaky connection and while they get to be united in their problems, Lydia is once again left alone and in the dark about what the hell is happening to her. She knows it's not Stiles' fault but she's tired of being alone.

"Wait, Lydia. Wait. Just would you listen for five seconds!" Stiles yells, scrambling down the hall surprised that he doesn't fall. He manages to catch up to her, successfully grabbing her hand, which he proceeds to tug until she's trapped between him and the door.

"Just listen. Please."

She swears to god this better be good as she stiffly nods her head in assent. He better consider himself lucky his eyes are so expressive, telling her to trust him otherwise she would have kneed him and made her escape outside. Stupid boys and their stupid almond eyes.

"I know you and ever since that ill fated trip to Motel 666 something's been bugging you. I just wanted to offer my help. Be the Mulder to your Scully." She knows he's telling her the truth, can feel it seeping through his long fingers innocently resting on her hips and into her bones.

Lydia isn't sure how Stiles changed her whole perspective so quickly. She went from feeling desperately alone to being able to breathe again. She used to think she was as hard as nails but now as Lydia leans her head against his chest so grateful to have someone to talk to about this, she likens her consistency to that of jello.

"Okay, Mulder. What's next?"

* * *

Next involved a lot of explanation and snacks.

Lying on his bed, with her head hanging off the side, strawberry blonde hair brushing the floor, she explained how this restless two weeks of practically no sleep was driving her crazy. Every night the same memory plagued her. She would be brought back outside of the motel and see the flare roll by some invisible force and although she wanted to stay frozen in fear, she somehow finds the strength to run and push Scott and Stiles out of the way. And in the flames the almost consumed her and her friends lives, she sees a monster with a burnt, white face.

Stiles listened patiently and clinically, offering her Oreos in between her pauses. Lydia finishes and watches him struggle to dunk an Oreo in milk. She is surprised by how much she appreciates the contrast of the serious and playful in Stiles. There is something so refreshing about it that she takes a beat longer to watch him before asking his opinion of the situation.

"Well, once again thanks for saving my life." He smiles. "Anyways, you seem like you have a good plan, the whole scientific experiment thing so let's just follow the steps and see where it takes us."

"Step II of the scientific method says we need to make hypotheses so we can do experiments to prove them wrong or right." Lydia likes this conversation. She feels comfortable as a girl on a mission, a scientific mission at that. She stands up and begins to pace the room wiping the Oreo dust from her hands. She idly wonders if some of Stiles neurotic energy rubbed off on her in the last two hours she was here.

"Alright. I think one of the most obvious observations would be that you suffered a super traumatizing couple of months and this whole sleepless thing is a culmination of all the horrible things you've seen working on your psyche. So if you stop being traumatized then the dreams will stop?"

She waves her hand in the air, sweeping that one out of the conversation. "I already thought of that. Like some kind of PTSD. But questions of why just me and why just this one memory cloud the validity of that theory."

Stiles scratches his chin, takes a moment to process, claps his hands together and says, "What about the whole banshee factor?"

Lydia considers his idea, nodding her head. "Yes. But there's still so much I don't know about what I am. All the folklore is inconsistent and we all know that folklore isn't necessarily true."

"Yeah, but Scully it's a place to start!"

* * *

_Step III: Design an Experiment to Test the Hypothesis _

"After extensive research, I have the decided that the only thing we can consider true about banshees from their folklore is that they are omens of death."

Stiles jumps awake under a pile of papers, wiping the drool from the side of his mouth. "Huh?"

"I thought you were supposed to be helping! Not slowing down the process." Lydia glares at him from his computer chair and repeats herself.

"Makes sense." He yawns. "So the methods on how a banshee delivers their death omens are the inconsistent part?"

Lydia smiles, glad he's finally making himself useful. "Yes, I mean take me for example. Sometimes I scream, sometimes I just wander towards a hideous death. It's never the same."

"This recurring dream then could just be another way you express your death omens!" He exclaims.

"Exactly!"

Stiles smile disappears after he takes a second to process the information. "Wait, so if your dream is some kind of warning and Scott, Allison, you and I are involved, does that mean the warning is meant for us?"

Lydia's face darkens. She had prevented two deaths that day and it would be completely unfair that she saved them just so they could die again.

Stiles notices the change in her demeanor. "Maybe your recurring nightmare has nothing to do with being a banshee." He chuckles nervously and he doesn't just get to do that, just throw away a theory.

The thing is that Lydia is a smart girl and knows that her anger has more to do with her frustration with herself than Stiles but that doesn't stop her from rising from her chair with her hands curled into fists. "Stiles, it's your hypothesis!" Lydia yells. "You can't just throw it out when you don't like the conclusions it brings!"

"It's okay, Lydia. I know." Stiles says gently approaching her slowly. "We'll figure this out. It's not your fault."

Damn straight, it's not her fault. She didn't ask to be a banshee. She didn't ask to be the harbinger of death. But Stiles stroking her bare shoulders with his calloused palms, trying to brand her skin with the knowledge that it's not her fault provides her with some relief.

* * *

_Step IV: Test the Hypothesis_

As Lydia lies in bed, waiting for Stiles to meet her in her room, she thinks she must have scared him earlier at school. She cornered him, gently pushing him back against the lockers and told him to meet her at her house later to watch her sleep. She tells herself that he's the one who wanted to get involved so it's his own fault.

Lydia curls deeper into her blanket hoping that tonight brings her one step closer to a good night sleep.

The alarm clock reads 11:30 in an unflattering red when Stiles appears in her doorway. "Are you ready? Do you need me to uh, tuck you in or something?" He stutters, smiling unsure.

"What am I five? Just record the results. See if I scream or end up in some random place so we can finally see whether or not this stupid dream is connected to me being a banshee." Lydia is all bite and snark and she is doing a really good job pretending that closing her eyes is going to be an easy feat but Stiles sees right through her.

"Hey, um. When I was younger, my mom would hold my hand until I fell asleep to calm me down. I could, uh, do that – for you…not that you need to calm down or anything." He stares at her green eyes and he pretends he doesn't notice that they are tearing up.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." She whispers and she could kiss him for giving her an out. Stiles drags a chair to her side of the bed and delicately grabs her hand.

"Jesus. You're freezing." He focuses on her hand and cups both his hands around hers, engulfing it in his warmth. The repetitive motion of his thumb smoothing over her skin lulls her into sleep.

* * *

Lydia wakes up. The usual sensation of wanting to scream or cry that has been present these past weeks isn't there.

She smiles so bright the sun is envious.

She wants to shout it from the rooftops.  
She wants to sing it at the top of her lungs.  
She wants to tell Stiles.

Lydia looks to her right and sees Stiles changed positions during the night. His body is folded in half at the waist. The top of his body stretched out on the bed with his face resting softly on her stomach while his legs remain seated in the chair.

She laughs. He is going to be very sore. She pats his head, tousling his hair. "Stiles. Stiles, wake up."

He jumps up and rubs his eyes, taking in his surroundings. Stiles winces at the pain in his back as he stretches. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Great, actually! No bad dreams."

"Score!" He gives her a high five. "You didn't scream or anything last night so the banshee idea is out but what does having no bad dream mean?"

Lydia wants to definitively say that the dream is gone, disappeared, never to return again because she is good person that doesn't deserve shitty dreams. But life doesn't work that way.

"I honestly don't know. Just add it to the list of things about myself that don't make any sense." She sighs, chewing on her lower lip. She doesn't know where to go from here.

"Well, I say, don't look a gift horse in the mouth! Turn that frown upside down!" He reaches for her mouth, stretching her face into a smile. He taps her nose once and gets up ready to leave.

"Hey, Stiles." He stops in the doorway and looks back at her. "Thanks."

"See you at school, Scully." The last thing she sees before he heads out of her door is his toothy smile.

* * *

"Lydia Martin, whistling through the halls? Has Hell frozen over?" Allison chuckles, leaning against wall.

Lydia rolls her eyes and places her books in her locker.

"No, but really. I'm glad to see you happy again. Something's been up with you." Lydia smiles at her best friend, noting the genuine concern and worry. Lydia wonders how she ever made it without her.

"Please, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about." And as expected Allison's face immediately shuts down. The second anyone shows concern for her she immediately becomes closed off. "When you're ready to talk about, you know I'm here." Allison nods, gives her a big smile, dimples and all and jets off to class.

Lydia walks in the opposite direction to her AP math class. She realizes that she's still humming and she doesn't really give a damn because last night she finally got some beauty sleep.

It's been a good day.

* * *

It only takes a while later for her good day to turn to shit because when Lydia awakes gasping for air, she realizes that she is still broken. She looks at the clock. The numbers mockingly read 3:45 am. Her first thought is to cry. Her second is to call Stiles and bitch at him so she's not the only one suffering.

She decides to do the second.

"Lydia?" Stiles voice is rough and riddled with sleep. "Is something wrong?" The concern in his voice makes her feel guilty. God, why does he have to be so wonderful to her when she doesn't do anything to deserve it. She isn't sure when their friendship or whatever they are will ever feel balanced.

"Um, no. Just. I had the dream again."

"Shit. Lyds. I'm so sorry. We'll figure it out. I promise." She smiles at his hopeful tone. Only Stiles, she thinks, is this devastatingly optimistic. It contrasts her feeling of hopelessness nicely.

"Can you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?" It's a whisper and she knows Stiles heard her from his quick intake of breath. And she isn't sure why she asks and she definitely isn't sure why she needs him to do this for her. All she knows is that something about him that comforts her in a way that nothing or no one else can.

"Yeah, of course. I'll tell you a story." She chuckles and closes her eyes, falling asleep to his story about Princess Lydia who orders the beheading of an evil King named Peter and the whole town celebrates.

* * *

_Step V: Analyze Your Data and Draw a Conclusion_

Lydia spends an extra long time in the shower the next morning, well technically just two hours and fifteen minutes later when she was forced to wake up and get ready for school.

She didn't have a bad dream in those two hours and she is utterly stuck on how that was possible. Lydia replays the past two days in her head and nothing makes sense.

She asked Stiles to watch her sleep and there were no banshee signs but there was also no dream. And just when she thought she was cured she goes and has the damn dream again. Only to call Stiles and have the dream disappear!

She rubs the conditioner out of her hair roughly, frustrated that she's tangled in a mystery that she thought she had already solved. She takes a deep breath and lets the water fall down her head.

'What was different when you didn't have the dream?' She asks herself, depending on rational thought to get her through this.

She slept in the same bed both times, just like every night for the past two weeks. Her routine had been the same except for Stiles watching her and taking notes of course.

She places her hand on the shower wall for support.

It's Stiles.  
Stiles made all the difference.

* * *

_Step VI: Communicate Your Results_

"Psssttttt. Stiles. Psssttttt." Lydia throws a crumbled paper ball at the back of his head. He fails dramatically and turns to look at her. There are dark circles under his eyes and Lydia's guilt is back in full force. He mouths 'what' amused and Lydia signals that he should meet her outside in the hall.

She waits five minutes outside of the class for Stiles to appear.

"Not that I mind or anything but if this whole interrupting my sleeping schedule or class time is going to become a thing, you should warn me." He smirks. Lydia rolls her eyes and drags him into the girls' bathroom.

"Jesus." He rubs his arm and takes a closer look at her. Her eyes are frantic and her she's breathing way too fast. "Seriously, Lydia. You're scaring me." He goes to place his hands on her shoulder to provide some kind of comfort, to ground her. But she flinches away and walks to the other side of the room.

"What's wrong with me? It's you!" Lydia points accusingly at him.

"Me? What the hell did I do? I've been helping you! Remember?"

"Helping me! Hah! All you've done is break me!" Lydia yells, tears welling up in her eyes. Stiles face of utter confusion isn't helping the matter because seriously this is all his fault. "You have treated me like a real person. And you've been so helpful and you're always honest with me, making sure to tell when I've been a selfish ice queen. And I hate you for it because you made me care about you and then you go and put yourself in these completely dangerous situations. Which drives me insane and makes me have recurring nightmares!" He goes to interrupt her but she glares and he closes his mouth. "You once told me that death doesn't happen to me, it happens to other people around me. That if I died you would go out of you're freaking mind. Well, ditto. Okay!"

"You're, uh, you're my independent variable." Her voice breaks and she's tired and she's pretty sure she just embarrassed herself but looking into his eyes all she sees is adoration.

"I'm your independent variable, huh. " He steps cautiously towards her. "I think that might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me." His touch is feather light as he brushes her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Obviously." She rolls her eyes, tilting her head upwards to meet his lips. She smiles against them marveling the complete ridiculousness of their situation. Because here in the middle of the school bathroom, when they are both supposed to be in math class, she's having what might just be the most important kiss of her life.

And as he raises her onto the sink and she tugs on his bottom lip, she knows that there are still a bunch of mysteries surrounding her. She doesn't understand what being a banshee means. Stiles has this darkness inside of him that he's struggling with. And Beacon Hills is just one nightmare after another but she has Stiles to help her through it and that makes all the difference.

Them, together finally, makes all the difference.


End file.
